


Categories of Touch

by sangueuk



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-08
Updated: 2011-01-08
Packaged: 2017-10-14 13:39:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/149765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sangueuk/pseuds/sangueuk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Summary</b>: While studying, McCoy is irritated by Kirk’s fidgeting and decides a foot massage will calm him down but touch never calms Kirk down!<br/><b>Warnings</b>: none – except if you don’t like massage and feet<br/><b>Disclaimer</b>: I mean no offence and court no profits, these boys belong to others more talented and deserving, I merely borrow them, play a while then return them all cleaned up and smiley<br/>Thanks to  for beta reading.</p><p>Intriguing snippet:<br/><i> He felt McCoy’s hands cupping his feet. Mmm, felt nice, comforting and he could hear McCoy’s voice mumbling all low and growly – he must have sat down on the floor, by the end of the bed.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Categories of Touch

  
**Categories of Touch**   


“The trouble with you, Jim, is you just don’t know how to sit still.”

They were in McCoy’s room studying. Or had been.

Kirk looked at him - he’d never considered this before, never thought that his level of ‘resting’ activity was anything other than normal.

“Sorry?” he said, glancing down at his hand which was drumming some rhythm on his thigh. He took a breath and it stopped. “I hadn’t noticed that…” McCoy raised an eyebrow and dipped his chin to indicate the floor. They both looked at Kirk’s foot. He was swiveling it right to left, left to right, on its heel, toes in the air. He stopped that.

“It’s annoying, that’s what it is. Only time you’re still, boneless, is when you’re asleep and straight after sex. Can’t move you with a crowbar then.”

Well, he was still now although, he had to admit, he was _really_ having to think about it.

“You’re pouting,” McCoy said.

“Shush. I’m thinking.”

He mentally scanned his body in a way he wasn’t prone to unless he was fucking or being fucked and, now that he’d stopped and focused, he _could_ feel little pockets of energy or something. These, he understood, needed an escape route and he’d just put a lid on them.

He looked at McCoy from where he was perched at the foot of the bed. McCoy was at his desk, half turned towards him, PADD on his lap, a couple more on the table. He’d undone his jeans and they’d slouched down a little, seemingly a little lower each time Kirk had checked. Now he’d turned over his new leaf of not fidgeting, McCoy wouldn’t be able to tell that he was half hard because his cock _wasn’t_ twitching.

“Now you look like you’ve got a stick up your ass.”

“I hadn’t realized.” Kirk cleared his throat. “Maybe they mentioned it when I was a kid at school a couple of times.”

“Only a couple?” McCoy stood, pushed his PADDs away from the edge of the desk and tucked the chair in.

“I’m having real trouble keeping still here,” Kirk admitted, his throat a little dry. McCoy stood over him, a button had come undone on his shirt and Kirk told his hand to, _stay_! If anyone was going to decide to slide his fingers into the v, just under the hollow, it was going to be him. Not some pocket of energy.

Shit. Why did controlling your pockets of energy make you so damn tired? He closed his eyes and allowed his body to flop back onto the bed, his feet still on the floor.

“I can see that.” McCoy’s voice was low and closer. Kirk squinted one eye and saw he was standing near to him, not touching just looking at him with this unfathomable expression. How could Kirk hope to command a starship if he couldn’t even manage to stop his tongue darting across his lips every few seconds? No, that bit was McCoy’s fault.

“Let me try something,” McCoy said.

“Sure.”

He was good with this, it had become a part of their relationship Bones fixing him up, dealing with his allergies, medicating him.

He closed his eyes again, heard McCoy disappear in the bathroom, heard the cabinet open and close…

…he must have fallen asleep, after all, he’d just had a nice warm shower, and had been lying flat on his back with a big towel wrapped round his waist.

He felt McCoy’s hands cupping his feet. Mmm, felt nice, comforting and he could hear McCoy’s voice mumbling all low and growly – he must have sat down on the floor, by the end of the bed.

He loved McCoy touching him, those hands so strong, gentle and beautiful, so assured.

And because Kirk made it his business to study and understand pretty much everything, he’d worked out some time ago that there were three different categories of touch between them.

First was Healing Touch.

Examples of this were easy to spot, Jim thought, as McCoy’s hands stroked slowly up his calves.

When in Healing Touch mode, McCoy wouldn’t look him in the eye as he ran a tricorder over Jim. Sometimes he looked angry with him while he did this, other times McCoy looked _nothing_ , like a screen had shut tight and all that was on his mind was his work. Kirk often wondered how one human being could look compassionate _and_ grouchy but that was Leonard McCoy for you.

This type of touch turned Kirk on quite a bit – something about this being how other people, patients would normally see Dr McCoy but that he alone could, if he chose, cross the fence and crumple that expression down into unguarded want and transform him into Bones. And when McCoy did the Healing Touch, if it was pretty minor and Kirk wasn’t actually worried about dying, sometimes Kirk kinda liked pretending he _wa_ s just a patient and he might even choose not to cross that line, seeing if he could seduce this hot doctor through will power, _pheromones_ alone.

McCoy’s hands were trailing down to his ankles – this wasn’t Healing Touch that was for sure although he did feel _better_ , mellow, heavy, lulled by the sound of Autumn rain, taking in hints of pine and steam from the bathroom.

The second type of touch was Bromance Touching.

Now, in private, this was of course no way a bromance. Kirk was pretty sure that the regular monkey sex meant that it wasn’t. He giggled - loved that expression - but he could understand that outwardly their friendship came off as a bromance. On the other hand, maybe people did suspect about them – could you be too tactile with same sex, platonic friends?

“Scoot up the bed a bit, Jim. So just your feet are hanging off the end.”

“I’m ticklish.”

“Well, I fucking know that, asshole. I know pretty damn everythin’ there is to be known about your body – inside _and_ out, remember?”

McCoy had let go of Kirk who still hadn’t opened his eyes. That had made his cock jump a little – that McCoy knew him like that.

“Why is it, Bones, whenever I take my clothes off, you get your cowboy voice on?” he sighed.

McCoy didn’t answer immediately. His mouth was busy blowing gently around Kirk’s ankles.

“Shut up, Jim, I’m busy here.”

 _Fuck_ – Kirk let the word ‘here’ which in McCoy’s dirty, southern mouth had become some two syllabled _fucking_ word, echo in his head awhile till it settled in his balls.

So, where was he? Oh yes, Bromance Touching…

To the outside world, their friendship must have looked like a couple of long term, good friends, all easy with each other. There’d be the occasional one armed hug and sometimes he’d get a half-hearted high-five out of Bones even though he always shot daggers at Jim for such a display.

“I’m a doctor not some low rent hoodlum. Make me do that again in public place and I’ll break your fucking arm.”

Even if they’d just won at pool.

Kirk might occasionally _tap_ Bones on the arm, to which he always responded with an almost dead pan, “Ouch.” in a tone of do-you-even-know-that-hurts?

The Bromance Touching, that was generally Kirk to McCoy. The Healing Touching was McCoy to Kirk.

Hair damp on the pillow, Kirk snuck a look at his lover who, he was more than thrilled to see, was naked. He’d obviously taken a shower while Kirk had dozed and his hair was mussed and dark, pointing every which way from a hasty rub with the towel. Bet he’d never even glanced in the mirror, Kirk thought with an ache.

McCoy’s face was a couple of inches from Kirk’s right foot which he’d cupped in both hands. His eyes were lowered and dark, framed by thick eyebrows. Fuck he was hot.

“Whatteryou doin’, Bones?” he managed to say when he saw his tongue snake out, and McCoy’s face get all peaceful as he ran the tip along Kirk’s instep.

“Calmin’ you the fuck down, that’s what.” His voice sounded like it had been dragged behind horses.

Next, there was Teasing Touching, the kind that would one day get them so busted!

This could be divided up into two categories 1) Accidental and 2) With Intent.

Accidental Touching was a hazard: a brush against a thigh or a hand tickling a wrist while handing over a PADD. They were unexpected, unplanned fucking _electric_ bonuses during a day. It never happened without some kind of reaction in his groin and he knew Bones felt something too because, praise the Lord, he always filed these moments away and liked to tell him about them with his hot mouth close to Kirk’s ear and his cock rammed hard into him,

“Fucking wanted to pull you down on your knees right there in front of everyone in the lecture hall, watch you wrap your pretty mouth aroun’ me…”

“It was an…oh… _accident_ , Bones…harder… _shit_ …” was how it might go.

Accidental Touching was usually, but not always, Kirk to McCoy because well, he was generally thinking about two things (usually more) at once and bumped into things a lot. ‘Things’ being Bones as much as stools and low ceilings.

McCoy’s tongue had made its way back up the way it had come. The sensation was so gentle, Kirk held his breath and closed his eyes to simply focus. Then the slight nip of teeth and he exhaled.

With Intent worked both ways. Bones to Kirk and Kirk to Bones. The odd ass-grab when no one was looking or a stolen kiss in a corridor, hit and run, never enough time or privacy to follow through – and that was the fun of it, knowing they only had to wait and they’d get to work it all off later, shifts and schedules permitting.

“It’s not working, Bones,” Kirk said. “I’m not calmed down yet.”

He waggled his hips but McCoy held up his hand, gazed at Kirk with dark eyes and said, “Let me do this for you, Jim, ‘k’?”

So Jim splayed his legs, and pushed up on his elbows to get a better view of McCoy’s intent expression as his wicked tongue continued its relentless exploration of every dip and crevice of Kirk’s right foot, his ankle cradled by long fingers. Felt nice, sure and fortunately not tickly, but he couldn’t help wondering what McCoy was up to.

McCoy worked himself with his other hand, nice and slow.

The fourth kind of touching involved teeth and lips and fingers and cocks and was pretty damn much both ways he thought with a hitch in his guts as McCoy’s warm mouth nuzzled him.

He hadn’t really settled on a name for this kind of touching. It always seemed different and grunts not words needed to be adapted into a name for this category. Oh! Touching? Yes _That_ Touching? Fuck Me Touching? His suggestions were making him giggle again.

McCoy stilled a moment.

“What’s so damn funny, asshole?” His voice like a warm summer night, washing over Kirk’s leaden body.

“Nothin’. Just thinking…”

“Well stop it.”

“’k’…”

This kind of touching, Fuck Touching? - was sometimes soft, sometimes angry, and everything in-between, usually Bones topping him, sometimes, the other way round if he could only get his knee between McCoy’s thighs quick enough and pin him by the shoulders to the mattress and shut him the fuck up with his mouth.

Often, they didn’t really bother to undress when the touching went that way and it could be tender, angry…he sighed not sure whether he could think for much longer seeing as the blood had left his brain now and worked its way down his thighs to creating the hardest substance in the universe. His towel had come undone so he knew McCoy could see his appreciation.

“You look beautiful like that, you know that?” Kirk said huskily, his hips bucking up as McCoy replaced his tongue with his hand, sat back a little and held Kirk’s gaze with eyes black with lust.

His thumbs worked large, strong circles along the ball of his foot, the pressure stronger now. He’d let go of himself and Kirk noticed that McCoy was the one fidgeting now, unable to stay completely still now his poor cock wasn’t getting any attention. Kirk loved that just touching him made McCoy hard, loved that this happened between them so fucking easily. He tried to gulp down the lump in his throat and watched rapt at McCoy reached down, took a bottle off the floor and drizzled oil directly onto the tips of Kirk’s toes.

No, he still had no idea which category of touch this was, as he watched McCoy spread the oil with his thumb while his fingers held the ball of his foot. Felt real good, definitely relaxing as McCoy splayed his fingers out and stroked from the root of his toes, down to his ankle.

Kirk wasn’t so much moaning as purring now and settled back down on his pillow, closing his eyes. He could sense McCoy change his position and angle, and his eyes suddenly shot open wide and he yelped when, without warning, McCoy reached up and grabbed a hold of his cock while sucking hard and unexpectedly on his big toe. There seemed to be some line of nerve endings from toe to groin, like Christmas tree lights they made him so happy.

“Jesus Christ, man!”

“Did I make you jump, darlin’?” not really sounding sorry.

Kirk slumped, nodded, “In a good way. Fuck.”

“Brace yourself…” and McCoy sucked each toe deliberately and hard matching the upward movement on Kirk’s cock with his oiled hand. He repeated the pattern with his teeth. “Jim?”

Now where was that part of Kirk’s brain that knew how to form sentences?

“Mmm…?”

And now the tongue was darting between each toe, flicking and stroking - shit, couldn’t make his mind up if this was bliss or just torture.

McCoy gave a good hard squeeze at the base of Kirk’s cock to prolong his agony.

“Jim?”

He sat up, “I’m gonna do your other foot in a minute. Need you to help me….”

Help him what? His spine didn’t fucking work anymore, his thighs were leaden, the only part of him that seemed to be able to show signs of life was his cock.

“’k,” his voice uncertain.

Genius level, Captain Pike had called him. Good thing he couldn’t see him now. He’d been totally, entirely disabled. Doubted he could remember his mother’s fucking name let alone be trusted with a crew.

Bastard was enjoying this.

“When I pull on your toes with my mouth, I want you to breath in real deep. Got that?”

He was a doctor, whatever he said, yes.

McCoy drizzled more oil. He took his time, being all fair and making sure this foot got the same treatment as his buddy, while working Kirk’s cock gently and patiently. Kirk felt warm and full like he was lying in molasses, with heat making inroads on his belly settling and throbbing so he was calm, so safe, so heavy, the only movement, McCoy’s hand on his cock.

“You remember what I said, baby?”

“Breathin…yes…”

McCoy stilled his hand on Kirk’s cock for a second his mouth hovering over his toe. Kirk could feel his breath.

“Now.” He hissed and pushed his mouth down hard on Kirk’s toe, with a down pull on his cock then all the way back up again as he sucked and Kirk breathed in. Fire shot from his thighs to his chest making Kirk buck of the bed onto his elbows.

“Shit, where the fuck you learn that trick?” Kirk stammered and grinned broadly at McCoy who looked pretty turned on and pleased with himself like a lion who’d just felled the biggest fucking antelope on the savannah. His face was soft, aflame with desire, his pupils dark and greedy swallowing up the vision of his lover on his back, his arms spread and clutching the sheets, and oh God, he raised his eyebrow, bent his head and did it again. This time, Kirk’s hands shot towards McCoy, had to touch him, take some control here before he was burned alive. A moan escaped his mouth in a voice he didn’t quite recognize.

“Bones. _Bones_! That’s too fucking much, just…”

McCoy released his foot, knelt up on the bed his eyes sweeping Kirk from erect cock, to his face and down to his feet again. Thinking, _plotting_ – had to be Torture Touch, yep, that’s what it was.

McCoy edged over so that Kirk’s feet were vertical and in line with his cock. His chest rising and falling with deep, controlled breaths,

“I don’t have the fucking words,” he finally said, frowning. “The way you look…”

McCoy tore his eyes away from Kirk’s face, and angled so his balls nestled at Kirk’s heels and the tip of his cock was trapped a little between them. Then he poured more oil and enclosed himself as best he could between Kirk’s feet and his hands, pumping very gently till he seemed satisfied he’d worked out the best way of getting friction in the slightly awkward position.

“Gonna come all over your beautiful, fucking toes,” he grunted.

Kirk’s hand slid down to his own cock, watching McCoy’s hand so he could match the tempo. Loved this, loved being marked by him and thrilled that another place had become available to McCoy’s administrations.

“Come _on_ ,” Kirk gasped, so close but wanting this to be just right.

McCoy let out a strangled breath, pumping his hand, the bed shaking under them, looking at the way he was nestled against his lover’s feet, then eyes on Kirk again, he angled his head left then right, jaw clenched, teeth closed, on the edge of _something_.

And Kirk couldn’t stand not having any control over this.

”Bones, I can’t…want you…want to see you… _come_ on!” Kirk pleaded.

McCoy sat back on his heels and laughed. “Shit!”

Kirk pulled his feet gently away, knelt up on the bed and pulled McCoy up against him. “Stay there,” he whispered. “Need you a bit closer.”

He pressed his mouth against McCoy’s taking in his breath, and tongue in one needy movement. Leaning against each other, their arms encircled waists and shoulders, both men moving, swaying, operating on instinct.

“You need to learn to practice what you preach, doc.” Kirk growled, taking McCoy’s oil-slick fingers in his and then sliding their hands between them to encircle their cocks. “Learn to stay still.”

He tugged on them like this, both at once. “Just wait and remember to breath…”

A barely noticeable nod, and Jim with infinite care continued rubbing them both, matching his breathing with McCoy and knowing the moment he needed to stop, pulling McCoy closer, so they were completely still. When they came, he pressed but didn’t buck into his lover, gasping and making plenty of noise but barely moving knowing that Bones could feel what he felt when he felt it, biting at McCoy’s throat, moaning and on fire until they both collapsed against each other shuddering and chuckling with relief.

It was a long time before either one spoke.

“I’ve been thinking about touching, you know the different types of touching we do…”

“U – huh…”

Kirk stared up at the ceiling. “And I think you’re right.”

“I’m always right, ass hat. “ McCoy pulled Kirk’s hand up to his mouth, kissed each finger slowly then dropped it.

“There aren’t the words,” Kirk said.

He turned his head on the pillow to look at McCoy who was looking right back at him. The slow blink said it all. Then, with a deep sigh he closed his eyes and Kirk followed suit.

 **END**

 

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